


i can tell myself / not to ride along with you

by cshmr



Series: nyxtober [1]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Daily Writing Prompts, F/M, No beta we die like spies, Nyxtober, i am bad at tagging, too much bad flower symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26790907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cshmr/pseuds/cshmr
Summary: there are many different types of chaos. today’s chaos is of the loud variety, the pumping of adrenaline in your veins, the fight in your head. today’s chaos is the two men racing down the dirt path on the rickety old motorcycle, the taller man with his brow furrowed in concentration as he drives, the shorter one with his arms wrapped around tall’s waist. he’s perhaps clinging a little tighter than necessary, but enveloped in the dark night sky and with the sweet pines around them, no one can see. and if they do, he can pass it off as fright.~~~prompt: chaostitle from the night we met by lord huron
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Series: nyxtober [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955443
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	i can tell myself / not to ride along with you

**Author's Note:**

> cw//mention of guns, no violence though
> 
> all credit to ambergrayownsmyheart for the amazing prompt list, i love ya dude!!

there are many different types of chaos. today’s chaos is of the loud variety, the pumping of adrenaline in your veins, the fight in your head. today’s chaos is the two men racing down the dirt path on the rickety old motorcycle, the taller man with his brow furrowed in concentration as he drives, the shorter one with his arms wrapped around tall’s waist. he’s perhaps clinging a little tighter than necessary, but enveloped in the dark night sky and with the sweet pines around them, no one can see. and if they do, he can pass it off as fright, he tells himself. as the rumble of cars behind them gets quieter, the two continue to listen intently, not daring to say a word. eventually, it gently fades into nothingness, and short lets go for a moment to let his hands fly out in the wind behind him, whooping with glee as they pull onto the familiar wooded trail. the route back is littered with flowers on either side, lavender and poppies outlining the path, the odd green carnation dotted here and there. tall elbows him gently at the yell, hushes him in a sleek whisper. if it were anyone else, short wouldn’t have listened. but he knows the other man would’ve tolerated the cheer if it were safe to make noise, so the hush must mean that the cars are still nearby. he decides not to retaliate, merely wrapping his arms back around tall’s waist, burying his head in the small of his partner’s back.

a short while later, the bike comes screeching to a halt. the two men get off and quickly run down the nearby grassy bank, hands intertwined like ivy. the bike is abandoned in the dust, quickly forgotten - not that it matters, seeing as they stole it earlier today. even though they know they could be caught at any moment, it still feels freeing, like a child running away into the forest, leaving real life behind, their boots trampling the pale clovers as they go. they end up ducking behind an old, abandoned-looking garden. it’s shoddy and trashed, cigarette butts and smashed bottles covering the dirt. a couple of bushes remain, though, only partially intact. they look shrivelled and bug-bitten, but it’s still clear to both what they are - yellow roses. before he realises that his hand’s cold again, the shorter man sees his partner stepping carefully through the thistley undergrowth, towards the bush as eve drawn to the apple, one arm outstretched, his pale hand glistening under the moonlight. short hisses his name, and he turns.

“what?”

“we don’t have time, you said so yourself!”

tall’s eyes shine like a cat’s through the pitch black as he pauses. neither dares breathe for a moment until he starts to clamber back. “i was just trying to be romantic.”

despite the circumstances, short smiles softly. “i know. but we gotta go.”

“i know.”

he holds out his hand. “c’mon, then, dar-”

“not here.”

he nods silently, and once tall’s taken his hand, they run again, all thoughts of roses forgotten as they sprint. tansies, forget-me-nots and rainflowers fall alike under their feet. a gunshot rings out from above, somewhere, and they break apart to run faster, their breath catching raggedly, ankles at liberty to the stinging nettles in the ditch. and when they hear the cry of someone falling, not knowing who, not knowing if it was the other or not, not knowing where either of them are in the onyx sky, they keep running.

that. that is the loud chaos.

but maybe tomorrow’s chaos will be quiet. the type that grows like weeds in a dark alley, the silent rebellions. two men lying together on a lumpy motel bed, the sheets a pale shade of marigold, legs interwoven like honeysuckle. there’s one painting in the room, a simple sketch of a thorn-apple, and the rest of the walls are blank. the lights flicker like soft fireflies.

their eyes meet, the soft dirt against the sickly-sweet caramel, but only for a moment. short buries his head in tall’s chest, the two clinging to each other tightly, as if this is their last night, under the cypress sky, the taste of wormwood absinthe still burned into their lips. and it just might be.

“i love you,” he mumbles, barely trusting himself to say it aloud, his voice a dandelion seed on the wind, only noticed by the man whose gentle arms are currently embracing him. or so he hopes. “so much, owen. i love you so much.”

his eyes look dark under the soft glow of the lamp, like a jet-black rose, as if thorns could sprout from him at any moment. but they won’t. owen is the opposite of thorns. owen is warmth and softness, gentle touches and kind words. that’s the man curt knows.

wouldn’t it be nice if the had chaos stayed quiet? for all we know, owen replied. almost certainly with an _i love you too, i love you more, i love you forever_. but there’s only two men on earth who know what happened next, and one of them’s buried under it.

let’s say that that was what happened next, and that the men fell asleep cradled by each other, enveloped by the soft chaos. let’s just say that.

**Author's Note:**

> i thought too much about plant symbolism when i was writing this so here's the meanings!
> 
> pine ~ eternity  
> lavender ~ love, devotion, distrust  
> poppy ~ used to remember those fallen in conflict  
> green carnations ~ the symbol of a secret follower of oscar wilde  
> ivy ~ endurance, faithfullness  
> white clovers ~ i promise  
> yellow roses ~ extreme betrayal, a broken heart  
> thistle ~ warning  
> tansy ~ i declare war on you  
> forget-me-not ~ don't forget me  
> rainflower ~ i will never forget you, i must atone for my sins  
> nettles ~ life and death, protection  
> weeds ~ devastation, disorder  
> marigold ~ pain and grief  
> honeysuckle ~ devoted affection  
> thorn-apple ~ disguise  
> cypress ~ death, mourning, despair, sorrow  
> wormwood ~ absence, bitter sorrow  
> dandelion ~ overcoming hardship  
> black rose ~ death, hatred, despair, sorrow, mystery, danger, obsession
> 
> also shoutout to the chaotic apocalypse server!! i love y'all so much <3


End file.
